


Hour of the Monkey

by ivoryandhorn



Category: Google Themes
Genre: 1000-5000 Words, Anthropomorphism - Freefom, Backstory, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-18
Updated: 2009-12-18
Packaged: 2017-10-04 13:29:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivoryandhorn/pseuds/ivoryandhorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was, to Hu's great (dis)pleasure, turning out to be an irregular day after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hour of the Monkey

**Author's Note:**

> First, thanks to [mitsuhachi](http://mitsuhachi.dreamwidth.org) for helping me out with a last-minute beta. Second, have a quick translation guide for the Chinese I used: Hu means Fox, Houzi means Monkey, Lao Tuzi means Old Rabbit.
> 
> So anyway, hi there, littlerhymes! I was assigned to you because I had The Umbrella Academy as one of my offered fandoms, but the moment I saw Google Themes (Tea House Theme) I knew what I had to write. I made a couple false starts on this -- and at least one false ending -- as I struggled to find a story I could both write on time and that would include your details. I ended up with a fic that was far from what I originally envisioned but that I enjoyed writing, and one that I really hope you will enjoy reading too. It was definitely not a fandom I imagined writing for when I signed up for Yuletide, but it definitely made my first Yuletide an experience to remember. So thank you for that, and happy reading. :)

Hu walked along the lake shore that curved away from his home, west towards the mountains and east towards the hills that undulated along the horizon. Once he was precisely three quarters of down his garden's back wall, Hu set down the squat basket in his arms. He walked back to his home and returned with other accoutrements he would need for the day's afternoon task: some bamboo poles of varying thicknesses and lengths, a coil of tough cord, and a small, rough-hewn wooden box. These he set out around himself; the thinner and shorter of the poles he pushed into the dirt and the cord he strung between them. The box's lid Hu pried open to reveal its treasury of clothespins, setting it down before lifting the lid of the basket to reveal soiled clothes, linens, and sheets.

The sixth day of the week was always laundry day.

His limbs were so used to the movements that Hu hardly needed to tell them what to do— memories engraved in muscle and bone by years of routine simply took over, leaving his mind free to wander. Despite the summer's heat the lake's waters had remained cool, dousing his rusty fur to the skin, and the soft splashing of his paws at work formed a pleasant background to Hu's thoughts.

He'd come to quite like laundry day. It was necessary work, and though some would call it tedious in the extreme that was exactly why Hu enjoyed it—the monotony gave him leave to appreciate the peach trees that sprouted all along the opposite shore, or to gaze at the mountains that hovered in the distance with shoulders wrapped in wispy clouds.

Hu paused, raising one damp paw to push back his hat where it had slipped forward down his head. He was about to turn back down to his work when something twitched among the peach trees, quick enough that for a moment he was not quite sure that he had seen anything at all. Hu's golden eyes narrowed and his ears swiveled forward as he tried to pick out exactly what, if anything, was lurking among his peach trees and rudely disturbing his calm.

It was the birds that did it for him. One of the trees nearest the shore began to shake violently as the usually placid songbirds began to screech and dive furiously in and out amongst the leaves and branches. A loud yell echoed across the lake; several peaches, shaken loose by the commotion, fell to the grassy ground below. A dark hand darted out of the branches to grab one on its way down and vanished back from whence it had come.

"Hey!" Hu bolted upright, tail bristling as he ran for the pier. "Thief!"

He yanked the knot holding his rowboat secure undone and snatched up the oars. Guided by the sound of angry birds, Hu rowed furiously to where he had last seen the thief. As he pulled the boat up the bank, a dark shape dropped out of the tree in a flail of skinny limbs, followed by a flurry of enraged wings.

Hu dashed forward, brandishing an oar. He stopped dead when he saw who it was lying on the ground, growling in the back of his throat.

"Alright, alright, all of you, shoo," he snapped, waving his oar through the air. The birds scattered, still chattering indignantly. Hu frowned down at the figure lying on the ground, peach still clutched in one dark-furred hand. "Houzi, _how_ many times have I told you?"

The thief grinned up at him through the gap between the arms he'd raised to protect his face. "What can I say, hope springs eternal." He sprung upright, dusting off his worn and patched clothing. He winked at Hu. "Your peaches _are_ the best in the district— it's worth a few little scratches for a taste."

"This is a lot of trouble for just one peach," Hu said. He reversed the oar and neatly rapped Houzi on the back of the paw before he could take a bite of the fruit in his hand. "They're not even ripe yet, you'll get sick.

"Ow!" Houzi snatched the offended limb close to his chest. He gazed mournfully up at Hu, eyes huge pools of black.

"Stop that, I didn't hit you that hard," Hu muttered. "The birds, though—" He grabbed Houzi by the shirt and dragged him towards the boat.

"It's nothing," Houzi said as Hu pushed him in. "Honestly—"

"Be quiet and let me row," Hu snapped. "And stop scratching at your face, you'll make the scratches worse."

"Alright, alright." Houzi settled in the bow of the ship, but Hu had barely started back across the lake when he was squirming restlessly, leaning over to trail his fingers through the lake—far enough that the boat began to bob dangerously to one side as he tried to get a better look at a turtle making its stately way along the lake bottom.

"Stop that," Hu snapped, grabbing Houzi by the back of the shirt and tugging him back in. "Don't you dare tip us over."

"But you row too slow," Houzi whined.

"And you don't know _how_ to row, so stop complaining."

As soon as Hu had reached the other side Houzi was up and out of the boat scrambling up onto the pier and onto solid ground. Hu took it rather slower, making doubly sure he'd knotted the boat securely before climbing up onto the pier. He glared at Houzi as he tried to wander off around the garden wall's corner, and Houzi turned around and sauntered back, smiling as if he hadn't tried anything. Hu prodded him into the house and pulled a stool into the center of the sparsely furnished room.

"Sit," he ordered, turning to rummage the heavy chest shoved up against one wall, under the bookshelves that jutted from the wall. "Don't even _think_ about sneaking off behind my back."

Houzi laughed a little nervously. "And risk missing out on your tender loving care? Perish the thought." He moved silently back across the floor; Hu knew he was moving away from the door more by the way Houzi's scent billowed in the room's still air than by hearing him. When Hu finally turned around Houzi was sitting on obediently the stool, scratching behind one of his big ears. They should have looked ridiculous, and they did, but on Houzi—he wore them as if there couldn't possibly be any other way for ears to be.

Hu moved over to him and opened the battered tin he'd been searching for. It was half-filled with a strong-smelling yellowish salve; he'd need to make more soon, if Houzi was going to keep dropping out his peach trees and provoking his birds like this. "Show me where the scratches are," Hu ordered.

Houzi held out an arm. "All along the outside. What do you _feed_ those birds?"

"Seeds, mainly," Hu said, rubbing the salve deep into Houzi's coarse fur, mindful of his own claws. "The blood of thieves unlucky enough to _not_ have me come to their rescue."

"As vicious as those things are, I'd almost believe it."

"Why shouldn't you?" Hu checked for any scratches he might have missed, handling Houzi's limb as carefully as he could. "As you said, they _are_ the best peaches in the district."

"If that's the case, then I'll have to try extra hard to steal one next time," Houzi said, grinning widely. "Peaches fed by the blood of the unlucky dead? I'll be the envy of all I know, and I know a lot of people."

Hu snorted and lifted Houzi's other arm. "You have a very strange sense of humor."

"No stranger than yours," Houzi said cheerfully. He shifted restlessly, looking around the room and sniffing the air. "Mmm, something smells good."

"Broth for dinner," Hu replied. Without bothering to ask, he lifted Houzi's chin, trying to peer through the scraggly fur. "Where are the scratches on your face?"

Houzi shrugged. "Not sure."

"Don't be ridiculous, you were scratching them just a few minutes ago," Hu said irritably. "I'll rub the rest of this salve into her entire face if you don't tell me."

Houzi's face wrinkled at that. "All over? Okay, okay—here and here, and a smaller over on the left by my ear."

"Good," Hu said, satisfied. He rubbed the salve in where Houzi had pointed. "There, that should be all. You can go now, if you like."

"Huh? Oh, yeah." Houzi stood to stretch as Hu put the salve away, the sound of his spine popping loud in the still air, but instead of moving away he moved closer, scent thickening around Hu as he approached. "What're you going to do now?"

"What I was doing before you interrupted me with your fool's errand," Hu said, standing. "My laundry."

"Laundry day, huh? Must be the sixth day of the week." Houzi laughed. He trailed Hu out the back door instead of exiting out the front.

Hu decided the best way to deal with this unexpected occurrence was to ignore Houzi and promptly did so. Houzi flopped down on the grass beside him. He appeared to be sleeping, eyes closed and tailtip occasionally twitching the grass around it. Hu went about finishing his laundry as quietly as he could, ears swiveling back and forth uncertainly as if searching for a sound other than Houzi's breathing, until he made them stop Houzi wasn't often silent, and he found it was oddly—well, it was odd, that was all, scenting Houzi so near but hearing nothing of him.

He _couldn't,_ however, ignore the sudden line of sensation that scored itself along the underside of his tail, nerves unused to touch jumping all along Hu's spine. "Stop that!" he snarled, baring his teeth at Houzi. Infuriatingly, he only laughed, propping himself up on his elbows.

"Your tail's really sensitive, you know that?" he grinned. "I barely did anything."

"Well, don't do that again," Hu said crossly, swinging his tail around his hip—his _far_ hip, thank you very much, he'd not have Houzi stroking his fur the wrong way again—and up into his lap. "It's _annoying."_

"Yeah?" Houzi sat all the way up. The glint in his eye didn't seem to be entirely from the afternoon sun alone.

"I'm warning you—"

Houzi moved faster than him, leaping onto him with one hand aimed for his tail; Hu tried to twist out of the way but wasn't quite fast enough, toppling backwards with Houzi sprawled half across him. Hu snarled and tried to squirm out of the way of Houzi's hands, but they darted like snakes, seeking every patch of bare fur to brush backwards. Somehow they ended up wrestling on the grass, rolling around against each other and bumping into the poles staked along the wall behind them. It didn't take as long as Hu thought it would have for him to pin Houzi to the ground, straddling his skinny hips with forepaws planted firmly on either side of Houzi's face.

"Okay, you win, you big predator you," he laughed, but he still kept trying to wriggle out from between Hu's legs. Hu sat back hard in response, settling his weight on Houzi to make him stay _still,_ for once.

"Don't touch my tail again," Hu said sternly. "It's annoying. I mean it, Houzi—"

He was interrupted by the feel of Houzi's thin tail suddenly brushing up against his and leapt off him with a high-pitched yelp.

"Sorry, couldn't resist," Houzi said, grinning as he scrambled upright.

Hu scowled, resisting the urge to clutch at his tail to keep it safe. "Stop it," he ordered, the fur on his face suddenly far too warm and stifling. He could still feel the path Houzi's tail had taken against his, still, the touch lingering as if the ghosts had come out early and bother him. "I mean it, Houzi. Don't make me set the birds on you, because I will."

"Okay, okay, I won't, I promise." Houzi strolled over to the laundry basket, hands jammed in his pockets and tail dangling close to his legs. "Do you need any help with this?"

Hu cautiously approached his laundry once more, righting one of the poles that they'd knocked askew. "You can pin them up to dry," he said grudgingly. "Clothespins are over there, in the grass. _Do not_ touch my tail again."

"I did say I wouldn't," Houzi replied indignantly. But he was careful to approach from Hu's side rather than behind the rest of the afternoon.

Once the basket had been emptied, Hu finished by setting up the last of his bamboo poles, the thickest ones, in a rectangle that encompassed all the clotheslines. He unfolded the piece of waxed cloth he'd brought out earlier and lashed each corner to the tip of the thick poles, forming a rough cover that slanted towards the lake. Houzi helped him without Hu asking or saying anything himself, which was—unexpected.

"Will you be staying for dinner?" Hu asked when they'd finished.

Houzi shrugged and peered up at the sky, shading his eyes with one slim hand. "Eh, I can probably make it to the town before it gets dark."

Hu scowled. "They've got enough to bother with without you stealing dumplings hither and yon." He pushed back his hat back up into place. His ears flicked back and forth, once. "Just stay here," he sighed at last. "I've enough to make dinner for two."

"And spend all evening staring at your sour face?" Houzi laughed, scratching behind one of his ears. "Nah, I think I'll take my chances with the grannies behind the street carts. The view's bound to be better, at least."

"If eating in my house offends you so much you can—help me do the cooking," Hu snapped. But don't go bothering the townsfolk, at least. There's no way you'd make it to town before dark anyway."

Houzi took a step back, hands held up in a gesture of surrender. "You make a convincing argument," he said. "I think it's all the teeth, you could put an eye with one of those things."

"If it works," Hu said flatly, still unsure why he cared so much whether the almost-peach thief ate in his home or in town. Surely it didn't matter either way, did it? Except he was beginning to think that perhaps it did. "Now come on."

Once inside his house, he pulled off his hat and lit the candles set by all the windows so they'd have light as the sun set. Houzi headed straight for the little kitchen tucked into one of the back corners of the room, but sheepishly set the ladle of broth he'd been about to drink when Hu glared pointedly in his direction. Hu stirred the broth and took a sip instead, adding a pinch of salt to the brew and a tinier pinch more of pepper.

"Here," he said grudgingly, handing the ladle to Houzi. "You can try."

"Really?" Houzi gulped the entire ladleful down, scalding hot or no. "Mmm, not bad. Needs more salt."

"You can add more yourself later," Hu said as he pulled open cupboards to take stock of his stores. Vegetables, mostly—the bones in the broth had been leftovers. The skin over his eyes furrowed in a tiny frown. If he'd known that Houzi would be dropping by today, he would have…never mind, it was too late for that.

"Okay," Houzi said agreeably. "So what should I do?"

Hu blinked at him, taken aback. "You can—" He grabbed a smaller pot and thrust it at Houzi. "Get water for the noodles. From the well, not the lake."

Houzi cast him a wounded look as if he had caught Hu's moment of disorientation. "Okay," he said, taking the pot. "How much?"

"As full as you dare," Hu said. "We'll need enough to make two batches of noodles."

Houzi slung the pot against his hip and saluted before darting away, a puff of air that smelled of grass and lake water marking his passage out. Hu took a deep breath and unhooked the chopping board from the wall, gathering as much of his stores—he'd have to go to the town tomorrow, what Lao Tuzi's grandson would be bringing over wouldn't be enough. He supposed it couldn't be helped, but it did mean that he'd have to rearrange the entire next two days as a result, which was…annoying. Chopping up radish and tearing up cabbage helped settle his nerves somewhat, but any calm he regained was instantly shattered by Houzi's flamboyant re-entrance.

"I'm back!" he sang out, barging in through the door. A bit of water sloshed over the side of the pot he carried, a splotch of near black among the faded grey of the floor stones.

"Just set it on the stove," Hu muttered. He stoked the fire and, once the water had begun boiling furiously, tossed noodles and vegetables in to cook, plus some dried bamboo to soften.

"Noodles again?" Houzi sighed as Hu poked at the pot. "You always make noodles, every time I've been here."

"Well, if you don't like my cooking—"

"I never said I didn't _like_ it. But you _do_ eat something other than noodles, don't you? Or do you keep those chickens around for decoration?"

"I'll stop having noodles for dinner the day you stop trying to steal my peaches," Hu replied waspishly, stirring the broth. Houzi just smiled at that, shaking his head, and for all his loudness he could be curiously reticent in other ways.

Once the noodles were finished, Hu drained away the water, and split the food into two mismatched bowls. Translucent slices of radish and bright green cabbage threaded the yellow strands of noodle, and Hu carefully separated out the bamboo to lay along the side of each mound before ladling the broth into both bowls. The pot was empty by the time he'd finished, taking with it all hope of his breakfast.

"Here," Hu said gruffly, thrusting the bowls at Houzi. "Take these to the table first." He found the chopsticks, the pair he used himself and the other one he had taken to keeping on hand just in case. Just where the kitchen counter bent to follow the corner was placed an upside-down basket, its fibres woven tight. From under it, Hu pulled out a plate that held the remains of that day's lunch. For a moment he wished that he'd kept some eggs to cook with his dinner—Houzi liked them boiled, didn't he?—but there wasn't anything Hu could do about that, having not planned to cook for anyone other than himself.

"Everything looks delicious," Houzi said as he approached. No sooner had Hu handed him the chopsticks did he took a huge bite of the noodles. "Tashes derishus too."

"Hmph," Hu muttered, looking down at his own food. "You're just happy that you don't have to work for it."

"Aw, I got water for the noodles, didn't I?" Houzi protested, slurping from his bowl.

"And next time, you might even participate in the cooking process." Hu let Houzi have most of the leftovers; he couldn't tell if he'd noticed or not. If he did, he didn't say anything to Hu about it.

Houzi finished first, setting his bowl down with the clatter of chopsticks. Hu took somewhat longer to finish his food, aware of Houzi watching him eat, face propped up on his elbows.

Finally, Hu finished the last of his broth and began stacking the dirty dishes. "Do you want some tea?" he asked. It was full dark by now, but it wouldn't pose a problem to Hu to fetch some more water from the well. "Lao Tuzi brought me some that he'd gotten from a trader passing through yesterday from—"

"Nah, no thanks," Houzi said, getting to his feet. "Whoo, if I keep eating meals like that I'm going to get fat," he added, poking at his belly. Privately, Hu thought he could have used the weight. "Well, I'll be seeing you."

"Wait—" Hu hesitated. "Lao Tuzi says it's going to rain later today—"

"Ahhh, felt it in his ears, did he?" Houzi said, smiling.

"Have you ever known him to be wrong?" Hu countered.

"I was _wondering_ why you were putting out that cover over your clotheslines," Houzi admitted. "Ah, well, I know a shelter or two around the hills. I'll be fine."

"I can't stop you," Hu said stiffly. "Do what you want."

"I always do." Houzi grinned broadly at him. "See you and your birdies around, Hu. Don't bury too many corpses without me." The door swung shut behind him as he exited through the garden. Peering out the window, Hu could just make out a dark shape scrambling up the garden's peach trees and over the garden's far wall.

"I can't stop you," Hu repeated to himself. He picked up the lantern just inside his front door and lit it, carrying it and a taper out into the night. The air had grown heavy with the promise of rain, just as Lao Tuzi and his ears had predicted, and it wouldn't be long before it made good on that promise either. Hu picked up the ladder lying flush against one of the walls and propped it up against the eaves so he could light the lanterns that hung from beneath the curled rooftips, as he did every night.

With this evening ritual done, Hu went back inside and gently blew out the lantern, setting it back down. He moved a single candle over to the table where he and Houzi had just eaten and set out his calligraphy supplies. However, instead of pulling a blank scroll off the shelf, Hu's paw landed on a small book, nondescript cover bound with faded blue cloth. Flipping to just past the book's middle, Hu set it down and studied the list of dates and times as he ground out a small portion of ink into the heavy stone dish. Selecting his smallest brush, he grasped it in his hand and dipped it in the ink, carefully adding _Twelfth day of the Month of the Dragon_ and, rather appropriately, _first half of the Hour of the Monkey_ to the list of dates on which Houzi had hitherto seen fit to try and steal his peaches.

Setting the brush down, Hu waited for the ink to dry before flipping back and forth between the pages, trying to find some rhyme or reason among the dates but they seemed random, meaningless, a pattern known only to Houzi—if indeed there was a pattern at all.

If only he could _know._ Then Hu could tell his birds when not to attack, and when to ask Lao Tuzi to make sure his grandson brought extra groceries out to Hu's home and perhaps one of the smaller dishes from one of the town's eating houses. Fruit, even, if he could get Houzi's visits to coincide with when the markets were open, or at least a pastry or two for dessert. But no, Houzi would have none of that, content to continually throw Hu's carefully ordered life out of its tracks.

Hu stared at his list for hours, giving up only when the characters began to swim before his eyes. He packed away his brushes and ink dishes with a faint twinge of regret for not having had a chance to calm himself before bed. The table was pushed up against the wall and the bedroll laid out over the stone in its stead, planets and thin pillow arranged over it. Hu checked that the outer lanterns were burning brightly in their wax shells, and then he checked that the cover over his laundry was holding up against Lao Tuzi's promised rain. Only then did Hu blow out the candles and undress for bed, groping his way under the thick blankets. The only light left came from moonlight and starlight distorted by water-pebbled glass; the only sound was that of raindrops pattering his roof and windows. For all the incessant drumming, it was a strangely peaceful sound, regular in its irregularity.

He hoped that Houzi really had a shelter to wait the night out in, wherever it was. And that if he didn't, that he'd see Hu's lanterns burning and walk back through his door.


End file.
